


The Killer

by cynthia_arrow (thesilverarrow)



Series: Some Lost ficlets [4]
Category: Lost
Genre: Child Loss, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5755774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/cynthia_arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was nothing else she could've done, given the person her mother raised her to be.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Killer

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted to livejournal, 2008, under the account name meanwhile_84.)

Ana can't sleep. It's a chronic problem. First, it was sleeping light, as the job demanded: on a stakeout, on call, on a forty-hour shift. Then it was not sleeping at all except in fits and starts: the baby, the murderer, the killer.  
  
The island was not an adjustment. It wasn't a hardship. She didn't sleep, and everyone else felt safer. She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart, even if she would never say she bore any of them ill will. There was simply nothing else to do.   
  
That's the way she looks back on it, her becoming a cop. There was nothing else she could've done, given the person her mother raised her to be. She lies awake at the beach camp, the sound of the surf rolling, and wonders what the fuck she's supposed to do now.   
  
She's a cop. What's a cop without a precinct she's trusted to serve in? For that matter, what's a mother without a fucking child? She's about to go down that road again, the bitter technicality that matters all the more when the alternative is really feeling it, dealing with what it means. It's easier to think abstractly: was she, is she?   
  
Her mother is, she thinks. She's never thought that before, but there is it: Ana's here, and her mother would still be a mother even if she weren't.  
  
Ana can't sleep, so she's thinking about her mother and the precinct back home. The guys on the job—they'd understand what she's done and why, she tells herself. All of it. Doesn't make it any easier to sleep, though, and maybe that's because her mother's one of them.


End file.
